WR: Dean's Job
by clair beaubien
Summary: Part of my Winchesters Rising universe. You might need to read that first. In this story - Dean gets his job on the construction crew and wants to celebrate. Sam doesn't want to celebrate. Told from Ben's POV.


A/N: another part to my Winchesters Rising universe. Dean got to the convent in time, the Cage wasn't opened, the brothers are trying to get on with their lives. Told from Ben's POV.

* * *

Dean got hired permanent on the construction crew and said we were all going out to dinner to celebrate.

Only, Sam didn't want to go.

He was happy, real happy, that Dean got the job. He grinned like I only ever saw him grin when he beat Dean at X-Box. He was even happy about dinner and told Dean to go celebrate and have a good time with Mom and me.

But he wasn't going with.

I could tell Dean was trying to not be pissed at Sam about it. I kept getting the feeling that whatever happened with Sam when he drank whatever it was he drank that made him so sick when they first came to our house, that it made Dean think about everything a couple of times before he reacted to whatever Sam did that made him want to react.

So maybe he wanted to get pissed at Sam, but he didn't get pissed.

There was still time before dinnertime, before we were supposed to leave, so when Sam went back to the spare room him and Dean were sleeping in now, I asked Dean,

"Maybe he'll come if I ask him to."

"Why would he come if you ask him?" Dean asked me, but he didn't sound sarcastic or flip or anything. He only just sounded like I might be onto something and he wanted to know how I knew.

I shrugged because I didn't know how I knew, I only knew that I thought sometimes it seemed that Sam told me things he didn't tell Dean. Only I didn't think I should tell Dean that or else it might not keep happening.

"All right, sure. Give it a try."

So I walked back to the spare room, only the closer I got, the more I wondered if it was a good idea or not, or was Sam just gonna think I was butting in between him and Dean, or something.

But I didn't want to tell Dean I couldn't do it. Dean can do anything and I wanted him to think I could do anything too. So I kept walking, even though maybe I walked slower a little toward the end there. And when I knocked on the door, maybe it wasn't loud enough for Sam to hear.

But I knocked again. Harder.

And Sam called "Yeah?" from inside and I opened the door, and he was sitting out on the bed of sleeping bag and blankets he had, with the pillow behind his back against the wall, and some huge book in his hands.

I'd never want to read a book that big.

"Hey." He said. That was his usual way of saying 'hi' and 'what's up' and – when he was talking to Dean – '_stop that you idiot_'. I figured this time was one of the first two. Or maybe probably both.

"Hey."

But that was all I had right off the bat and after a couple seconds of nothing else, Sam's eyebrows went up in that way he has of asking without saying anything.

"How come you don't want to come to dinner?" I asked him finally. I knew he wasn't gonna get mad or anything like that. It takes _Dean_ to get Sam _really_ mad. Other than that, Sam doesn't get mad, he gets quiet.

"That's for you and your Mom to celebrate. Dean needs to be celebrating with you."

"Why not you, too? Dean's your brother."

"I'll let him take me out for a beer one of these days." He said it and he smiled, like I was supposed to believe he was all right & okay with it.

When I didn't believe that, and when Sam _saw_ that I didn't believe it, he dropped the smile, but he still didn't sound angry or anything.

"Dean needs to celebrate with you. This is for you three. I'm not part of it."

"How can you not be part of it? You and Dean – you're – you're – _you and Dean._" There wasn't any other way I could think to describe it to him. "Can he celebrate if you're not there?"

He smiled again and looked sad.

"Give it another ten years and you'll understand. This needs to be Dean and your Mom and you."

"But Dean wants you to go. Doesn't that matter?"

He only just kind of shook his head. I wondered then if maybe he was pissed at how he was living here, stuck in a back room.

I mean – me looking at Sam, he seemed okay. Not sick or falling down or anything. But Dean must've thought he wasn't okay. Dean wouldn't let him go to their friend Bobby's house, he wouldn't let Sam even think about getting a job himself yet.

So Sam spent a lot of his time back here in this room. When we were all gone, or if ever Mom and me were gone but not Dean, he'd come out. But he mostly seemed to spend most of his time holed up back here. He hardly ever came out to watch TV. He was starting to not eat dinner with us every night. Maybe he was mad that's how he had to be living here.

"What are you going to do?" I asked him. The question came out of nowhere, I wasn't planning on asking it.

He only just shrugged.

"Read. Sleep. I don't know."

"Well, why don't I stay home with you and let Mom and Dean go celebrate together? We can watch a movie or play X-Box and we can get a pizza or something."

"No, you can't do that. Dean would be really disappointed if you didn't go."

"More disappointed than he already is that _you_ won't go?"

That came out of nowhere too and I wasn't sure what reaction it would get me and when Sam shut that big huge book kinda hard, I kinda wondered if he was going to kinda whip it at me.

But he only sighed and got that sad look on his face again.

"It's not – it's just not that easy. It's not that cut and dried."

Something started squiggling in my head and another thought shot out of my mouth before I knew it.

"Did Dean do something?"

"What?"

"Did Dean do something that you don't want to celebrate his job with him?"

"No. Nothing. Dean – Dean didn't do anything." Sam sounded confused. He looked confused. "It's what _I_ did. I nearly got Dean killed. I nearly got – a _lot_ of people killed. If Dean hadn't shown up when he did -."

And _just_ when I thought I was finally about to hear what had really been going on, Sam I guess remembered he forgot he wasn't talking about it.

So he stopped talking.

"Whatever it was, Dean forgave you, didn't he?" I asked.

"Dean _always_ forgives me. That's not it."

"You haven't forgiven him for forgiving you?" I tried.

And Sam smiled again. Only this time it kind of looked like a smile a guy would give you just before the quicksand sucked him all the way dead.

"No, really. I'm totally fine with him forgiving me. I just -."

Then he looked at me, and I swear, I think I got a '_I just realized I'm explaining myself to a kid and why should I_?' look.

"You all go on and have fun. Have a good time. Let Dean celebrate."

He opened his big book again and maybe that was supposed to be my kiss-off goodbye. But maybe I didn't really get that hint.

"Did you almost die, too?"

"Yeah. Maybe. I don't know."

And I wondered - how can you not know if you almost died?

"Well, maybe Dean wants to celebrate that you didn't die? Maybe this isn't all about his job. Maybe it really isn't about the job at all. Maybe – you know, maybe it's just finally being able to celebrate anything at all. Just to celebrate. Just – _just 'cause_."

He gave me a squinty look like maybe I'd overheard something between him and Dean and – well, yeah, I _had _overheard things_,_ lots of things, but I couldn't figure what it might've been that had to do with right now.

Then he shook his head and muttered, _"Just 'cause." _He muttered it like that was what I maybe overheard, only – I was pretty sure I never overheard it and even if I did, that wasn't why I was saying it now.

Sam pushed the book onto the floor and stood up. He gave my shoulder a squeeze and walked out of the room into the hallway where Dean was at the far end, straightening a picture on the wall that I didn't remember being crooked.

I stayed back near the room. If Sam was going to say yes, if he was going to say no again, I figured Dean's reaction would be cool and nonchalant. They had that kind of connection that when it was serious, it didn't get the snark or jibe or pissiness.

So, Sam walked up to Dean and admired his straightening skills for a couple of seconds.

"Do I have time for a shower 'fore we go to dinner?" he asked.

"Yeah. Plenty of time." Dean answered.

There was no '_all right, fine, I give'_ giving in, no '_to what do I owe the privilege, Princess?'_ winning. They just both sounded like there'd never been a minute Sam had said he wouldn't go and this was just one stop on us all getting out the door.

Sam turned back toward the room and Dean reached out and pressed his hand against Sam's back for a second and I saw Sam smile again. Only this time he wasn't sad, he wasn't in the quicksand. He was just happy.

And Dean had exactly the same smile on his face too.

The end.


End file.
